


Situational

by IStillLoveER



Category: E.R.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IStillLoveER/pseuds/IStillLoveER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Now for something completely different...)<br/>Sequel to Destina's fic "Incarnate." (Which you can find here -- and you should read first. You'll find the link in my author's note. Destina prefers that I describe it as 'inspired by' which I am fine with too.  But it does directly follow the events in that fic, using the scenario set up there as its background and lead-in.)</p><p>In Africa. In Paris. Even in Chicago ... sometimes things happen that you don't expect.  Sometimes all it takes is the right situation ... the right motivation ... the right time ... the right partner. The right man.  Right?</p><p>Once he could understand.  But not twice.  Twice he could understand. But not more than that. But ... damn ... he was beautiful. Not a word one usually used to describe men, but he was.</p><p>"It was strange, ironic really. If he had ... or ever would someday ... given his life for Luka's ... walked in front of that train, thrown himself before that bullet ... no-one in the world would have thought it wrong. It would have been courage ... manliness ... true friendship.  So why then could it be seen as wrong, by anyone, to share commitment ... love ...pleasure?"</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once. Twice.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Incarnate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115854) by [Destina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina). 



> Unlike the fics I've posted up until now, this is new, and exclusive to AO3.
> 
> This fic is also something very, very different for me. While I've written plenty of fics with what I refer to as ... 'mature themes,' I've never tried my hand at slash. And I've always found it hard to write sex scenes.
> 
> I've never even read much slash, and most of what I've read has left me cold. For a variety of reasons. I know many people enjoy it -- for me it has rarely worked.
> 
> Anyway ... as Luka says in my story, sometimes all you need is the right motivation, and for me, it was reading Destina's story "Incarnate." Which I liked very much indeed, (believable and carefully developed rationale, believable reactions, generally excellent writing) but I felt that the story ended too soon, and would have benefited from further exploration, not only of the relationship (and the sex ) but of their (particularly Carter's) reaction to it -- the "whys" and the "what nows" and ... most important the "what the hell did we just do and what am I supposed to be feeling about it now?"s.  
> The motivation was there, the muses were engaged ... and yeah, apparently I can write sex scenes.
> 
> So, I have continued it. (Or, as Destina prefers, I have written a fic 'inspired by it' which picks up just after "Incarnate" and uses the same background ... and makes frequent references to events and dialogue in that fic.)
> 
> My fic earns its E rating -- it is considerably more explicit in its sexual descriptions and language than "Incarnate" (which, IMO could have gotten by with an M). Lots of sex. All consensual this time. So be aware. And do go back and read “Incarnate” if you haven't done so. "Situational" picks up directly after that one finishes and this story will be hard to understand without it. (No, the sex in the first chapter doesn't happen without reason or explanation.) It's also just a good story and worth your time to read. (If you don't want to take the time right now -- though it's pretty short -- , very brief summary: set in an AU season 10, Carter has stayed in Africa after rescuing Luka at the end of "The Lost." Wearing himself out dealing with an Ebola epidemic, he is exhausted and sick when Luka returns to help him out. Once the epidemic is controlled, they find themselves engaging in 'situational' sex, (anal intercourse) with Luka taking the lead and Carter willingly seduced. At the end of the story they fall asleep together. At the start of this one they ... wake up. 
> 
> Enjoy. And do review. (Lack of any sort of comments is leaving me baffled. Kudos are nice. Hits are nice. But why no comments? )

Carter had been dreaming. A most ... interesting dream.  Erotic ... arousing ... almost wet.  As he woke up, he was sure at first that he was still dreaming. Because the sensations were still there. And a low voice, close to his ear, saying his name. Not 'Carter,' but 'John.'  Low, silky -- the word 'seductive' came to mind. But not a voice he was used to hearing in quite this context, or quite this close.   Luka's voice.  And a hand on his thigh, moving, stroking slowly.  A tongue lightly touching his ear. Luka's erection pressing against his buttock as he lay on his side, with Luka spooned against him.  
  
Carter wanted to groan, but managed to bite it back.  As Luka became aware that he was awake, his mouth moved from his ear to trail lightly across his neck … his shoulder.  And his name was spoken once more.  
Carter somehow managed to make his voice steady ... light. But not, he hoped, flirtatious.  "Did you want something, Luka?" It did sound flirtatious.  
  
"Just you." Carter could hear the smile in his voice.  Flirtatious indeed.  Luka's hand moved to lightly touch his cock, then, even more lightly, his asshole.  "Could I interest you in another round?"  
  
He should say no.  Carter knew he should say no. He wanted to say no.  Once again, he had given Luka the wrong message.  His remark, in the flush of post-coital pleasure about not wanting it to be situational ... he hadn't really meant it.  Once -- he could explain, understand -- the heat of the moment, the need. The situation. Even a way of thanking Luka for being there when he had needed him ... in other ways.  But not twice. Not twice in a matter of hours. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew he hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours.  
  
But he couldn't say no, and really didn't want to.  He'd be lying to himself if he tried to claim otherwise. He wanted it again. The memory of the experience, as much as Luka’s touch, was arousing him beyond the point of turning back.   He could easily explain “once” to himself.   He could just as easily explain twice, if he had to.   At least he wouldn't have to explain it to anyone else. And he knew now what to expect. But still, ‘yes’ wouldn’t come.  
  
Luka read his hesitation correctly. "Oh ... I'll make it more than worth your while.  I promise."  
  
"Satisfaction guaranteed?" There _was_ no point in pretending.  
  
"Or your money back ..."  Another light touch. "Or at least your ass."  
  
Carter couldn't answer, couldn't say anything at all. His brain no longer functioned, only his body ... or certain parts of it, anyway. They were most definitely functioning.  He could only sigh and roll onto his stomach. An answer that Luka, again seemed to read correctly.  
  
Consent received, the preliminaries were brief this time. Neither of them needed much in the way of preliminaries this time.  A few wet kisses across and down his back. A hand between his legs to find and briefly stroke his cock.  Luka's fingers slipping easily into his ass. He was still loose, still wet from last time. Carter's hips moved automatically to meet those fingers, urge them deeper. He groaned and started to get up to his knees, but Luka said “No, just where you are.” He straddled him, laying on top of him, supporting himself on his elbows, the head of his cock just touching Carter’s asshole.   “Do you want it?” he asked, his voice husky now.

“What do you think?”

“Do you want it?” Luka said again, that smile in his voice, his lips brushing his neck.  “Consent is important, John.”

“Yes, I want it,” Carter gasped – and then gasped again as he felt Luka’s cock enter him again, all the way into him with one smooth thrust and that almost-pain.

“Too much?” Luka asked.

“No …it’s perfect.”  And it was. 

“Good. Now don’t forget to breathe.”

The preliminaries had been almost perfunctory, and the entrance quick – but from then on, it wasn’t quick at all.  After resting a moment with his cock deep inside, Luka pulled back, very slowly, until he was almost out … then just as slowly pushed downwards until the weight of his lower body pressed Carter into the mattress.  And again. And again.

Luka  wasn’t touching him at all. Supporting his weight on his elbows meant that his hands weren’t free to touch Carter’s body. But the sensations were still overwhelming as Luka continued his slow thrusting, and his weight and movement made Carter’s cock rub against the mattress. It _was_ all perfect, and Carter wanted it to last forever.  But nature, and instinct had other ideas.  Nature cared far less about the journey than the destination, and Carter felt himself moving towards orgasm. Instinct made him push his hips upwards against Luka’s thrusts, pushing him faster, trying to hurry him … hurry both of them. 

“Oh no, John,” Luka said. “You’re not going to come yet. We’ve got a long way to go.”

“That may not be an option …” Carter managed to say, and then groaned again in frustration as Luka’s response was to withdraw completely and roll off him.  Carter _didn’t_ want to come yet … but he really, really didn’t want for Luka to stop.

For a minute, Luka lay beside him on the bed, still not touching him, while Carter lay as still as he could, trying to slow that journey.  Then  “Turn over. Open your legs.” As Carter obeyed, Luka slid off the bed to kneel beside it.  He ran his tongue slowly over his lips. And Carter had little doubt about what was going to happen next.

“If … ‘not coming’ is the goal,” he managed to say, “I think you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“No, the goal now is ‘making it worth your while.” A smile, then Luka’s hand went between his legs to find, and enter his ass again with wet fingers.  And his mouth … oh … his mouth. Wet, warm; his tongue slowly caressing his cock.

If Carter hadn’t wanted to come before, he wanted it even less now.  But there was simply no way he was going to keep it from happening … short of asking Luka to stop … and there was _no_ way that he was going to do that. Carter managed – somehow – to hold out for 30 seconds or so. Then his hips moved to thrust deeper into Luka’s mouth, once, twice  – and into  the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced.

When it was finally over, and his brain had …somehow … re-engaged, the thought came to him out of nowhere that the Victorians used to call orgasm ‘the little death.’  He understood that now. And then he opened his eyes and looked at Luka. He hadn’t moved. His mouth was still wrapped around Carter’s cock, his fingers still pushed to the knuckles in his ass. But he was looking at him. And when Luka saw that Carter was looking back at him he slowly pulled his mouth from his cock, lips still closed.  And swallowed.  And that simple act … the momentary bobbing of his adam’s apple, his tongue moving again over his closed lips, was more erotic, almost more overwhelmingly arousing than anything that had gone before.  If Carter had had anything left at all, it would have been enough to make him come again. 

Instead he had to settle for a gasped, “Oh …Jesus …”

“So ….” Luka said after a minute. “Was it worth your while?”  Carter could only nod. “Do I have to give you your ass back?” His fingers were still there.

“No … it’s all yours.”

“Good, because we aren’t finished fucking yet.”

And Carter heard himself say, “Or, I can … return that favor if you’d rather.” Where had that come from?

“Maybe next time.” Luka smiled and kissed him on the mouth, then motioned for Carter to kneel on the floor in front of him – and entered him again. No slow, teasing thrusts this time, but steady, deep and urgent.  Luka’s arms were wrapped around him, damp chest pressed against his back, his face buried in his hair. Carter was too exhausted to feel much now, but he could take pleasure in listening to Luka’s deep breathing, feeling his heart-beat against his back and … finally … the last deep thrust and Luka’s low “Oh, John … John.”

And somehow they both managed to climb onto the bed again, to get a few more hours of sleep before the morning.  As Carter started to drift off to sleep, Luka’s arms around him, he remembered Luka’s words ‘maybe next time’ and thought to himself, _but no … there won’t be a next time. Twice I can  understand. Twice I can explain to myself. To you. But not more._


	2. Thrice

When Carter woke again it was morning, just a little past dawn, he thought.  And he was alone in the bed.  It had been a dream, he thought.  An intense and erotic dream … he’d been alone for a long time.  These things were to be expected. But no, he was sweaty and sticky and slightly sore back there.  There was a small love-bite on his shoulder.  And the memory was much too real, and more than a little bit embarrassing. 

He had never imagined something like this happening.  He liked Luka.  He was grateful to him for everything he had done.  They were friends – had become close friends in recent months as they had worked so intensely together, but still nothing more than friends. But it _had_ happened … twice ... and he had enjoyed it.  Intensely. Twice.  And now, he was sure, their relationship could never be the same – and not in a good way.  Unexpected, unplanned sex with a woman had … rarely … led to something good between them. At least for a little while.  But Luka wasn’t a woman.  They were both men – both, he was sure, completely heterosexual men.  And he still didn’t understand what had happened, or why.

Carter got out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of shorts from the box that held his few clothes.  It was the last pair.  He would have to do some washing soon – though he’d be going home in a few days, so it was hard to justify the effort.  He would pee, shower and dress – and hopefully not see Luka again until he was able to wrap his brain around what had happened, and figure out how he was supposed to react.

The bathroom was a shed built against the walls of his quarters – a toilet and a shower with water that was usually warm due to some rough and ready solar heat. As he pushed the door open he heard the shower running, and saw Luka under the shower-head, rinsing shampoo from his hair.

And … damn … he was beautiful.  Not a word one usually used to describe men, but he was.  Carter had seen him naked before. They’d shared quarters for months, and Luka wasn’t shy. Neither, for that matter, was he.  But it had been an unspoken social reality from his earliest childhood that you didn’t notice other boys, other men.  You didn’t think about what was happening at the next urinal, or under the next shower in the school locker room. And you definitely didn’t look.  Even when you saw, you didn’t notice. Nearly a decade as a doctor had further increased his ability to separate the sexual side of the human body from all its other aspects. 

Last night, the first time, he had been too overwhelmed by what was happening to him to really notice.  He had touched, but hadn't looked or noticed. And the second time, the room had been quite dark and, of course, Luka had been behind him most of the time.

But now, he was overwhelmed again, this time by the beauty of Luka’s face and body as he stood there, head tilted slightly back,  eyes closed, so the soapy water wouldn't run into them … and the awareness that the embarrassment of a few minutes before was gone, replaced by something else.   He wanted to touch that body, be kissed by those lips.  The curves of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, a scar down his abdomen that Carter had also seen dozens of times before, but had never really noticed or wondered about.  And just below the bottom of the scar, more dark hair and … yeah.  He wanted that too. He wanted to wrap his hands around it, and his mouth.  He wanted to feel it deep inside his body.  And he still didn’t understand why.

Once – once he could absolutely understand.  It _had_ been a long time for both of them; the physical need had been real and powerful. The emotional need too; it had been a celebration of life in the face of so much death and horror.   Twice – a physical seduction, nothing more. Luka’s hands and lips on his body, rousing him from sleep; arousing him in every way; he couldn’t be expected to have resisted that.  But now … Luka hadn’t yet touched him, hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t said a word.  Just the sight of his body was enough to stir desire in him.  Desire … want … need … that in a moment or two, he would be unable to hide. Perhaps this was something else the Victorians had right; that they so fully understood.  The concept of the sexual awakening ... that once something had been experienced and enjoyed, there was no going back.  A very Victorian idea.

Luka’s voice broke into his reverie. Luka was looking at him, smiling at him.  “If you are hoping for any warm water at all, you’d better get in here.”

“Maybe a cold shower would be better, just now.” Carter tried to make it a joke.  Luka couldn’t have failed to notice, even if he was pretending to not notice. But there was no point in pretending.   Not for either of them. He quickly pissed, left his shorts on the floor, latched the outside door so they wouldn’t be disturbed, and then stepped into the shower.  Luka stepped backwards so Carter could get under the water. It was still warm. Just barely.   No long, leisurely showers here.

For a minute, Carter briskly soaped and rinsed himself in silence, waiting to see if Luka would make the first move.  Maybe the moment would pass and they would go on. Forget about it.  Luka was no doubt at least a little bit embarrassed too.  Then Luka asked, “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“Did I give you any reason to doubt it?”

“I know I was … a little bit assertive.”

“I’ve rarely known you to be anything else.  Assertiveness can be … good.”  Would Luka read that as an invitation?  It was vague enough that it could read in any of several ways. 

He did. He pulled Carter into his arms and into a deep but rather tender kiss, and an embrace that pressed their bodies together; further heightened his desires.   After a long minute Luka broke the kiss and the embrace, and reached over to turn off the shower.  “Let’s not waste the water or let it get cold.”  Another light kiss and then, “What do you want this time?” with a smile that melted him a little inside and hardened him a little more elsewhere.

Carter remembered his first thoughts as he had looked at Luka, and his words from last night.  “Last night … you said I could … return that favor.” He reached for Luka’s cock, enjoying the feeling of its half-hardness in his hand.

“I wouldn’t have called it a favor,” Luka said, with that smile again.  “But if you want to – yes, you can.”  He took another step backwards to lean against the wall, and Carter dropped to his knees on the rough wooden boards – and suddenly the awkwardness was back.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. The thought of taking that  penis into his mouth was exciting – arousing. But mostly (he told himself) he wanted to be able to give Luka some of the pleasure that he’d received last night. It was only fair to return the favor.   But he _had_ received.  Last night, Luka had taken the lead, every step of the way.  He had been assertive, sure and confident.  He knew what do to and how to do it; how to bring pleasure to Carter, and take it for himself.  Carter had only responded … reacted … received.   And now, he wasn’t sure what to do.  He had never done this before.  He’d received it countless times from a dozen or more women over the years, some skilled, some … not.  _Would_ he be able to please Luka, or would he just embarrass himself?

It felt like a long time had passed, but it had only been a moment.  He had never done this before, but at least he knew what he himself liked. That would be a good place to start.  He glanced up at Luka’s face, slightly upturned, eyes shut, waiting.  And then back at his target. And something else he had seen often but had never really noticed.  Luka wasn’t cut.  His foreskin was there, also beautiful and exciting, but complicating his plan to ‘do what he himself liked.’   Like most American men of his generation, he was circumcised.  Most European men were not.  Oh well, he couldn’t back out now, and sometimes you just have to trust yourself – trust your instincts.  They hadn’t led him wrong yet.  He leaned forward, ran his tongue lightly over the head of Luka’s cock, then drew it slowly into his mouth. It was still quite soft; still only half-erect.  Luka gasped a little. He let his tongue play with the edge of the foreskin, exploring, tasting, enjoying.  And he felt his own excitement grow as he felt the cock swell and harden in his mouth. A momentary thought crossed the back of his mind that he was doing something right anyway; Luka did seem to be enjoying it, and was responding appropriately.   Then he turned his attention back to what he was doing, and how Luka was responding.  Lips, tongue, palate, sometimes, very lightly, teeth, continued their explorations; caressing, kissing, sucking; sometimes very gentle, sometimes firm and assertive.  And Luka’s reactions, his quickening breathing, his groans and ‘Oh John, yes … just like that’ increased Carter’s confidence.  But then, as he sensed Luka moving towards the finish, another doubt came into his mind – one he couldn’t ignore.  

Last night, Luka had taken his cum into his mouth and swallowed it with obvious pleasure.  But Carter … he wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that step.  His own girlfriends; some had swallowed, some had spit, some had never gotten far enough into the act for it to have been an issue.  And he was sure that Luka wouldn’t complain whatever he decided.  Well, when the moment came … when Luka came ... he’d do what instinct dictated. It hadn’t led him wrong yet.

But then, Luka solved his dilemma for him.  He said, “John?”  and gently pulled Carter’s head away.  And when Carter looked up at him, wondering, he went on, “This is … absolutely wonderful … but I would much rather come in your ass … if you want me there.”

“I love having you there,” Carter said, and meant it.  “How do you want me?”

“Stand up,” Luka said, and drew Carter to his feet.  Another long deep kiss, then Luka lubricated his fingers with the soap, and pressed them, first one, then more, into Carter’s ass.

Now it was Carter’s turn to groan and sigh and gasp “Oh … yeah …” He _did_ want this.  Both the feeling of those fingers  and the anticipation of what would soon follow were, again, overwhelming.  Luka turned him to face the wall, and stood close behind him. 

“Do you want it, John?” he asked, close to his ear.

“Yes, I want it.”

“Do you want it now?”

“Yes … now,” and he took it, with another groan and a sigh, one that Luka echoed, still close by his ear.

Slow thrusts, gradually becoming faster.  Carter was dimly aware that this position didn’t allow Luka to penetrate him as deeply, but … the surprising thought … there would be other times.  And again, his wonder, at how amazingly good it felt.  A sudden memory of his freshman human physiology class; of the professor explaining coldly, clinically, in detail,  with diagrams,  to a room full of squirming and embarrassed 18 year olds of both sexes, the workings of the male reproductive system.  Including  a detailed explanation of why receptive anal intercourse felt good to men.  “If men have a g-spot,” he had said, “That’s where you’ll find it.”  As a squirming, embarrassed 18 year old, Carter hadn’t believed a word of it.  But now he understood.

It didn’t last very long this time.  Luka had been too close to orgasm when they had begun to make it last.  And this _was_ about Luka’s pleasure, not his own.  And there  _would_ be other times.  A dozen or so thrusts, and then  the arms tightening around him, a last thrust, as deep as he could go, and Luka trembled slightly as Carter, for the third time, felt Luka’s cum flood into and  fill his body.  And, for the third time, he loved it.  “Oh John … you are … wonderful.”  Luka kissed his hair, his neck, his shoulder, then slowly withdrew and turned him around so he could kiss his mouth again.


	3. Intimacy

“And now,” Luka went on. “It’s your turn. What do _you_ want this time? You can fuck me … or I can suck you. Or maybe there is something else you want to try?"

Carter was unsure what to say.  The first was tempting … it had to feel at least as good to give … but then that awkwardness again.  It would be something new for him, and maybe one new thing at a time was enough.  And the memory of last night … oh that was just too tempting.  It had been too amazing.

Luka smiled at him. “I will love either one, John. I promise.” 

And Carter sighed and said, "Suck …” and leaned back against the wall to watch Luka take his place on the floor, and confidently take Carter’s erect cock into his mouth.  And Carter was glad that, despite the pleasures of the last few minutes, he was not yet close to orgasm.  This time he could really enjoy it for a while.

It _was_ amazing.  And Carter was, yet again, surprised.  Everything else they had done in the past 12 or so hours had been new to him; new, different and exciting. But he _had_ received oral sex before, countless times.  And it had never felt like this.  (Well, not unless he counted last night.)

 Maybe it was because they were both men. Maybe Luka understood, both instinctively and from experience what would feel good to another man. When to hurry and when to slow down ... make it last.  Those women so often had not.

Especially when he had been young, in high school and college, his equally young female partners often hadn’t had a clue.  They hadn’t understood that terms like ‘blow job’ and ‘sucking him off’ weren’t meant to be taken literally – that neither blowing nor emulating a Hoover set on “High”  could possibly do much for him. Some others had viewed it as a vaguely disagreeable duty; something to be done in hopes that he would return the favor, or just because they thought he wanted it – it’s what you did for your boyfriend.  And duty wasn’t arousing either. Carter knew (well… he’d heard as much anyway …) that oral sex was popular among prostitutes and their clients.  It was quick, relatively clean, and did not require undressing.  It was also popular among teens, who didn’t view it as ‘real’ sex … it didn’t count.  It was better .. . slightly … than risking pregnancy.  And Carter couldn’t understand that at all.  He couldn’t imagine doing this, or enjoying it, with a partner who expected only $50, or a bag of crack at the end of it.  Or because it was better … slightly … than the alternative.  

Oral sex was, and should be, he thought, deeply intimate and profound – receiving the deepest of pleasure through the act of giving it.  Receiving something that was freely and willingly … joyfully … given.  It should be … like this. And looking down at Luka’s face, listening to the soft noises he made with his mouth and throat, he knew that it was.  Luka had been absolutely honest when he had said he would love either one.

And now it was time to stop thinking about it, and focus on enjoying it.   Luka didn’t try to hurry him, and he was in no hurry.  Both were enjoying the journey.   But every journey must eventually end, and after about 10 minutes, Carter felt himself moving towards the inevitable … and he enjoyed that too. Holding Luka’s head, his fingers in his wet hair, so he wouldn’t move as Carter gave into the instinctive need to thrust deeper into his mouth, to penetrate, as he was, again, swept away on the wave of his own release. 

As before, Luka kept his mouth sealed over his cock until the last pulsation had ended, then slowly released him. And, as before, he waited until Carter was looking at him, before he slowly and deliberately swallowed.  Carter  groaned. “Oh … Luka … that was …” There were no words.

“Nice to hear that you recognized me this time,” Luka said teasingly. “Last night, you seem to have confused me with someone else .  I think his name was Jesus.”  And they laughed together as Luka got back to his feet and reached for the shower knob.  “I think we could both use another shower after all that.” 

A little of the hot water was back, and this time they soaped and rubbed and  touched each other, stopping often for another kiss, another embrace. Neither could possibly manage another round, but the touching was pleasurable enough.  Finally the hot water really was gone and Luka turned off the shower.  Back to their quarters, where both stretched out on the bed both still naked – comfortable, companionably post-coital.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Carter finally said, “This is … this is absolutely crazy, Luka.  I can swear to you that I have never … in my entire life … done anything with another man.  Never thought about it, never wanted to.”

“Didn’t you go to boarding school, Carter?”

“Yeah, for a few years.”

“Isn’t boarding school famous for that kind of thing?”

“Maybe, but it just never interested me.  I know that some of the other guys were off … doing whatever it was they were doing, but I was happy enough under the covers with a flashlight and my one copy of Penthouse Letters that I’d smuggled in from somewhere and kept hidden under the mattress."

“I’ve heard that you can do some interesting things with a flashlight,” Luka said lightly, letting his hand wander again in the direction of Carter’s ass.

“No thank you,” Carter said. “I’ve got too many of them in Dr. Carter’s Box of Wonders.  No interest in adding another.  Anyway … I was mostly too busy trying to figure out how some of the things described in the letters were even physically or anatomically possible.  At 16 I was naïve enough to believe that the letters were real. But they did serve their purpose at the time.” 

Carter sighed and settled himself more comfortably against Luka’s broad chest.  “I’ve really never had the slightest interest. It never seemed … wrong, or distasteful.   It just … never crossed my mind that I’d want it, or enjoy it.  And now ... if someone had told me, 24 hours ago, that I would have sex with another man, I would have said that they were crazy.  And if anyone had told me that I would have found sex with a man … with you … beyond amazing … I would have …” Carter shook his head.  “But now, not only have I had sex with you 3 times in one night and found it … beyond amazing  every time … but I’m finding it impossible to think about anything else except … having sex with you again.”

A chuckle from Luka. “I’m very flattered, Carter.  But after 3 times in one night,  I think you’re going to have to give me a little time to … recharge.  And restock.”

“I can wait,” Carter said. “They do say that anticipation is half the pleasure.”

“They also say that practically everyone is at least a little bit bisexual, you know. Sometimes it just takes the right situation, the right …”

“Man?” Carter finished for him.

“I was going to say ‘motivation,’” Luka said with another laugh.  “Sometimes we don’t know what we want, or need, until the moment is right. And sometimes it _is_ only right when the moment is right. Or the time. Or the place.

“Well … I’ve also heard it said that, as men, we just think with our penises anyway. So maybe that’s part of it.”

“Where did you hear that from?” Luka asked.

“Women … mostly.”  And this time they laughed together.  Still comfortable. Still companionable for a few more minutes of silence.

Then … a little less comfortable.  “So, Luka … like I said, this is all completely new to me.  But I’m going to guess that it isn’t … new to you?”

“Not completely, no,” Luka said quietly. “But still mostly … situational.  And not recently, and not as much as you might think. As you’ve no doubt discovered, it doesn’t take long to figure out how it all works, what does and doesn’t feel good, and what you enjoy.”

"Especially if you have a good teacher," Carter said.  And something even less comfortable, but something that had to be addressed in the cold light of day. “ _Should_ we be worrying about safe sex? I know it’s maybe a bit late.”

“Do you think I would have put you at _any_ risk, Carter?” Luka asked, also serious now. “No.  I spent the past year or so being really, really, stupid with way too many women, but I was never that stupid.  I always used protection, and got myself tested every few months on principle.  I’m clean, or at least I was as of a few months ago. And there hasn’t been anyone since Gillian, who wouldn’t have let me be that stupid even if I’d wanted to.  So unless you have concerns about yourself…”

“No … I’m very boring in that regard.  Or at least I was until yesterday. No chance.”  Carter rolled over to kiss him. “I’m glad.  I love the feel of you against me and inside me. I’d hate to have to block that with latex.”

Luka returned the kiss, then sighed and sat up.  “I think we’ve played hooky long enough.  We have work to do.” Another melting smile and a wink as he reached for his clothes. “Catch me after lunch if you’re interested. I should have recharged by then.”

And Carter _was_ interested. After lunch.  And before bed. And another middle-of-the-night wakening.  And again the next day.  And it was never anything but amazing.

They would be going home soon, and it would end then.  This wasn't real, it wasn't him. Chicago was real. This was just -- a situation. The right moment. The right place. What happened in Africa, would stay in Africa.


	4. Paris

Carter rolled over and opened his eyes to look at … and admire … and want ... Luka’s sleeping form in the bed beside him. To listen to his quiet breathing and wait patiently for him to wake up. Or perhaps his impatience would get the better of him, and he’d wake him.  He knew that Luka wouldn’t mind being wakened.  But there _was_ something to be said for anticipation … so he could wait.  

The hotel room in Paris was a thousand times more comfortable than his shack in the Congo.  The bed was certainly bigger.  So was the shower, and the hot-water never ran out.

Paris – they would stop in Paris for a week or two to decompress … do some shopping … purge their memories, for a while, of the worst moments of Africa. Then they would go home.   Luka had agreed enthusiastically to Carter’s suggestion, especially once Carter offered to pay the hotel bill.   But they hadn’t talked about the real reason.  Neither of them wanted to go home, for reasons they couldn’t talk about.

 _‘We don’t talk_.’ Those had been Abby’s almost last words to him before he’d left Chicago.  He knew (because back when they _had_ talked … or he’d thought that they had talked … Abby had told him), that she and Luka hadn’t talked much either when they were together.   Communication, at least with words, had never been any of their strong points.  At least not when it mattered.  So he hadn’t asked Luka what he thought would happen when they went home.  He himself knew the answer to that – this would end.  What seemed absolutely right in the Congo, still seemed absolutely right in Paris, wouldn’t be right at all when they were home again and back to their real lives.  And he hadn’t wanted it to end yet – so Paris would delay the inevitable.

Yes, of course it was over between him and Abby. And he knew that Luka didn’t have anyone waiting for him back home.  But at home it couldn’t possibly continue.  It wasn’t a relationship – it was sex.   Nothing more.  They were friends, and they had sex.  They didn’t make love – they fucked.  What was the in term so popular among the younger people these days?  “Friends with benefits?”  But in Chicago they would have to try to hide it … or try to explain, and Carter knew he couldn’t possibly do either.  It would be hard enough to work beside Luka every day without also having to think about going home together every night.  Without having to hide their need; their desires.  And as for explaining it to anyone else … no. Not in a million years.  And ending it now … or soon … before things got complicated was best anyway.

In Paris, they didn’t have to explain.  The desk clerk hadn’t batted an eye when he’d handed them their keys to a room with a balcony overlooking the park and a ‘grand lit.’  The maid hadn’t yet complained when the ‘ne pas deranger’ tag remained on the door far into the morning. (And the day she had come in after noon to finally make up the room, and found them entangled in a sweaty and naked 69, she also hadn’t batted an eye. Just apologized and left them to it.) The waiter who brought their room-service breakfasts on some mornings said nothing as he poured their coffee, even though he had to know that they were naked under the duvet.

In Paris they could enjoy Paris – long hours sitting in a café chatting over endless cups of strong coffee … relaxed meals … walks by the riverbank hand in hand … shopping … and deep and hungry kisses that they didn’t have to explain, and that, as often as not, led one of them to whisper hoarsely “Let’s go back to the room …” and they would go back to the room … to enjoy each other one more time.

Long, long, _long_ hours in bed, just enjoying each other.   Before they fell asleep at night. After they woke in the morning. A mid-day tumble in the (usually) freshly made bed, if the maid had made it before they returned.  Or in the shower.  Or bending over the vanity, where he could watch Luka’s face, and his own, in the mirror as Luka fucked him.  Or on the couch or the floor.  Sometimes waking in the middle the night for another round, unable to resist the opportunity.

Three, four, five times a day … but Carter couldn’t imagine that the sex could ever get old or his energy for it would ever run out.   

They tried some new things. (Or at least they were new to Carter.  He still hadn’t pursued the question of how much experience Luka actually had, and where, when and why. He really didn’t want to know. All that mattered was that they were both clean … and didn’t need a layer of latex between them. ) Carter had tried being the active partner when they fucked, but found after a couple of tries that he really did prefer _being_ fucked … even as he wondered, every time, how it could possibly feel so good.  Luka obviously preferred that arrangement too (‘we’re a well matched pair’ he’d said with a smile) so he couldn’t complain.  A few tries at 69. As exciting as that was, both preferred to be able to focus on one thing at a time, and to be able to see each other’s faces.  And a few other things from a book Luka had brought back one morning when he’d slipped out for an hour before Carter was awake.  But those didn’t really appeal either.

So the sex might not have been wildly imaginative, but it was exciting, and deeply, deeply satisfying … and never got old. Feeling Luka’s cock grow unbelievably large and hard in his mouth as he sucked on it, sliding his tongue under and around the foreskin; watching Luka’s face and feeling his hands tangle in his hair as he moved closer to orgasm.  And then, when Luka would allow it [he usually still preferred to finish in his ass], feeling his mouth fill even fuller with Luka’s cum … and swallowing it. (And wondering how he could have ever doubted that he would want to.)  Or enjoying the feel of Luka’s mouth around his own cock, focusing on the sensations he created there … new and fresh every time … sometimes heightening the pleasure with a few fingers slowly moving in  his ass, sometimes letting both of them focus on his cock – and each other’s faces.  Carter sometimes wondered if his own expression could ever look half as blissful as Luka’s did every time he came in his mouth.

And … what both of them still enjoyed the most … the long, slow, deep fucking that seemed to last for hours, but always ended too soon.  Always a little different -- sometimes they were kneeling one behind the other, or he was bent over the vanity or the bed, or lying flat on it, or sometimes they were standing against the wall of the shower while the water poured down on them like warm rain. Once, standing on the balcony, still almost fully dressed, while Luka’s pelvis rocked slowly against his buttocks, and they wondered together if anyone in the park 6 stories below them knew what they were doing.  Of course they did.  And that was exciting too.

Sometimes Luka’s arms were wrapped tight around him, his face deep in his hair as he moaned his name.  Sometimes nothing touched but buttocks and pelvis and, always, Luka’s cock deep in his body.   Sometimes he was pressed to the wall so hard by Luka’s body against his that he could barely move, and only Luka’s hips moved with their deep and steady thrusts.  Sometimes they said hardly a word to each other; sometimes the thrusts were punctuated by dirty talk as Luka asked him yet again if he liked it … asked him what he wanted  … and Carter was happy to answer him with detailed descriptions.  Sometimes whispered endearments – not “I love you,” but “you are wonderful.” Which at least could be believed.

But in some ways, it was always the same. It always, always began with Luka asking him if he wanted it, and with Carter saying yes.  Now.   It wasn’t about consent, not really.  It was just that Luka liked to hear him say it …and he liked saying it. (Especially since he knew that once he had said it, the next sensation would be that of that wonderful  hardness sliding into him, filling him beyond full … and eliciting those sensations that really did never get old.)  It was part of the foreplay.  And it always ended the same, with that last deep thrust and groan and shudder from Luka as he was filled fuller still, and Luka said his name again and again.   Then, if he hadn’t yet come himself, Luka would finish him with his mouth … or, if he had, Luka would lick his cum from his hand, or the sheet. Always with that same rapt expression that also never got old.

 Then they would collapse together, exhausted and spent, and Carter would be certain that he would never find the energy to do it again … certain that this time his satisfaction was so complete … he was so replete … that he would never need to do it again --- until a few hours had passed, he had recharged and restocked, and a look, a smile, a touch, or simply a memory was enough to make him need Luka’s body yet again.

It would never get old.  There wouldn’t be time for it to get old, because they _would_ be going home soon, and it _would_ end.  He would never again enjoy the sensations that Luka woke in him, not with Luka or with anyone else.

Because the other thing he knew with utter certainty was that once it had ended with Luka, there would be no other men.  However much he, or ‘practically everyone else’ might be at least a little bit bisexual, he knew that _he_ was still almost completely straight. Close enough to 'completely' to not matter. And so, he was sure, was Luka. Luka, he knew, had slept with dozens of women in past year or two.  He’d never even heard a hint or a rumor of a man, not in the four years they had known each other.

 He didn’t want any other man … he couldn’t imagine himself with any other man. Walking the streets of Paris, or riding the metro, he would look at the French women in their short skirts and high heels and he could admire them. He could undress them with his eyes; imagine himself in bed with them. Not today of course … but sometime.   And the thought could make him smile. But looking at other men, no matter how beautiful, no matter how well built, even as some of them smiled invitations at _him_ (he was, so obviously ‘with’ Luka that they no doubt assumed he might be interested in them) stirred nothing in him.  The things he did with Luka – the things that had seemed unimaginable to him a few weeks before – were imaginable now only because they _were_ with Luka.  He didn’t want sex with men.  Just one man.

Even when he had been lying in bed with Luka that morning earlier in the week,  paging together through the book Luka had brought home, the pictures in the book had left him uneasy and embarrassed, an embarrassment he had tried to cover by joking about how so many of these acts and positions too seemed to be anatomically impossible.  Maybe this was why the things in the book hadn’t appealed.  Perhaps if they had been really gay, they would have.  But they weren’t, so they didn’t.  Seeing pictures of other men together didn’t arouse him or interest him, not the way that heterosexual porn could do so easily.  This kind of sex was right when it was with Luka.  Not any other time, any other way.  Not with any other man. 

When he went home, there would, eventually, be another woman. Maybe there would finally be a woman he could love, be loved by, make love to, and spend the rest of his life with. And maybe Luka would finally find one too.  This interlude would be forgotten. 

He had been watching Luka sleep for a long time.  And he was out of patience.  He wanted him.  “Luka,” he whispered, and when Luka’s eyes opened to look at him, he said, “I’m hungry …” and reached for his cock with his hand, and then, with his mouth poised over it said “Do you want it? No interruptions? All the way to the finish?"  And Luka said “Oh yes, I want it ... with no interruptions ...” and Carter was able to oblige them both.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finally they could put it off no longer.  Two business- class tickets to O’Hare on a noon flight tomorrow.  And they still hadn’t talked about it.

Now they were sitting in what had become their favorite café, just a few blocks from the hotel. A quiet table in the corner, and they still talked about nothing.  And Luka called him Carter.  If anything made the strangeness of the relationship clear, it was that.  In bed, during sex, he called him John.  Everywhere else, he was Carter.  They were friends. And they had sex. Two different realities.  Eventually, he could only hope, they could still be friends.

A hand under the table, under the tablecloth, stroking his thigh, touching his zipper, unzipping it just an inch or two, making room for a couple of fingers to slip inside.  A smile.  Luka leaned over for a light kiss, and it was all Carter could do to not groan as he felt his body responding yet again.

“Let’s get the check,” Carter heard himself say. “We’ll head back.”

“Can’t wait that long,” Luka whispered. “The men’s room….”  He rose quickly and headed there with determined stride.  A moment later, Carter had fixed his zipper and followed. The men’s room was small – just two urinals and a stall, and fortunately it was empty.  As soon as the door had shut behind them, Luka grabbed Carter’s arm and pushed him into the stall, closing that door behind them too.  In a moment he had Carter’s pants down, and his own, and had Carter turned to face the door. Neither had said a word.   Carter thought he would explode then and there.  This was something new and unimaginably exciting.  Assertive could definitely be good.  There wasn’t much space in the stall, but they didn’t need much space.  He was aware that Luka had wet his fingers in his mouth, and an instant later he’d pushed them into his ass.  One, two, three fingers in rapid sequence. After over two weeks of frequent sex he didn’t really need this preparation anymore … he was always open; always wet.  But it was part of the foreplay, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it.   Then the rest of the foreplay. “Do you want it, John?” “Yes … I want it … now …” and he was filled. No long, slow fuck this time. Luka was desperate for completion, and Carter couldn’t help but want it too.  Luka’s hand was cupped over his cock, both so it wouldn’t hit the door and so he could rub and pull at it to hurry Carter’s own orgasm.  Carter pushed his hips back to meet each of Luka’s thrusts, thrusting that  made the door and walls of the stall rattle, but not louder than Luka’s “Do you like it?” and his own low cries and “Oh yeah …  fuck me  … just like that ….”

And then … the slight squeak of the outer door … and footsteps. Luka clapped his free hand over Carter’s mouth, and buried his face in his hair – and stopped thrusting, with his cock buried deep inside of him. A moment later, a voice, hesitant, asking in French, “Are you ok in there?” 

Carter could feel Luka shaking with suppressed laugher as much as interrupted passion, but somehow Luka managed to say “Oui, nous allons bien.” Yes, we’re fine.

A moment later the voice continued, “et … votre … amie?” And it was all Carter could do to NOT dissolve into laughter.  Carter still didn’t speak much French, but he couldn’t miss the fact that the man had used the feminine form of ‘friend.’  He pushed Luka’s hand from his mouth and choked out, “Oui …je suis … bien.”

A long pause and then, in strongly accented English, “Ok … have fun. I’ll come back later.” Footsteps, and the door opened and closed again – and both gave in to the laughter even as Luka’s fucking became even harder – if that were possible, and deeper.  Half a dozen more thrusts and then Luka’s arm tightening around him and a choked gasp of “Oh … John ….” And Luka came --- and he did too, into Luka’s cupped hand.  For a moment they just stood, still joined. Then Luka slowly withdrew and deadpanned. “I enjoyed that.”

“It was … interesting,” Carter agreed, watching with pleasure as, as always, Luka licked his hand clean, and then kissed him.  Silently, but still shaking with barely suppressed laughter, they straightened their clothes, left the stall, and washed their hands.   And tried to compose themselves.   Luka motioned towards the door.

“After you,” he said.

“Oh no … I’m not going out there first,” Carter said. “This was your idea, remember.”   So Luka opened the door and returned to the café, and a minute later, Carter followed. He kept his eyes straight ahead, and tried to NOT wonder which of the men drinking coffee at the other tables had been the one.  

Back at their table, both finished their now cold coffees, and Luka motioned to the waiter for the check.  They would take a slow walk by the river while they recharged and restocked. And then, they would return to the room for as many long, slow, deep fucks, as much sucking,  and as many orgasms as they could squeeze out of each other ... and into each other ... over the next 12 hours … until  it was time to leave for the airport – and their real lives.


	5. Chicago

On the plane they still didn’t talk – at least not about anything important. They didn’t touch. Business-class seats were roomy enough and far enough apart they didn’t even have to touch accidently. Carter couldn’t think how long it had been since they had gone that many hours without touching each other.

  
The flight attendant – her name tag said Kristy -- slim, pretty and dark, flirted lightly with him – and more intensely with Luka. Two attractive men, neither wearing a wedding ring, both wealthy enough to afford business-class tickets. What was not to like? Both of them flirted back. And when Carter returned from a trip to the lavatory he saw her leaning over Luka’s seat, writing something on a napkin. Something that looked like a phone number. Luka took the napkin, folded it, and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Didn’t meet Carter’s eyes as he sat again and refastened his seat belt.

  
It was just as well. This was what he expected, what he planned. The only way it could be. There was no point in complicating matters, or extending the inevitable good-bye.

  
Still, at the airport, they walked together to baggage claim, and to passport control. As they headed for the taxi ranks, Luka said, “Wanna share a cab?” And Carter agreed. They didn’t live terribly far apart, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience.  
They reached Carter’s place first. It had been a very long time since he’d been here. And, as the cabbie got his bags from the trunk and he dug out his wallet for the fare, he heard himself say, “Do you want to come up for a while? Don’t have much in the house, but I think I can rustle up a stale cup of coffee or two.” He felt his breath catch a little in anticipation … felt his body starting to respond to the idea.

  
But Luka shook his head. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’d like to get home.” Not surprising. They hadn’t slept last night at all. “I’ll see you at work?”

  
“Yeah ... I probably won’t be back for a week or two. I have a lot of things to take care of first.”

  
“Ok.” Luka’s eyes met his for an instant, and he leaned forward to give him a very light kiss on the lips. A kiss good-bye. “I’ll see you then.”

  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  
It was a very long couple of weeks. Carter took care of his business, spent long, long hours with the lawyers sorting out the tangled mess that was Gamma’s estate, getting his own back bills paid and his apartment livable again. (The spiders had been busy.) And a dozen times --  or a hundred times -- he thought about picking up the phone and calling Luka. But he didn’t. Luka’s decision had been clear, and so had his. They hadn’t talked about it, but both had known. And Luka knew where he was. He could call too if he wanted to see him.

  
He also thought about calling Abby, but didn’t do that either.

  
He wished he drank. If he did, he could go to a bar, and maybe chat up a willing woman … maybe take her home. It wasn’t anything he had ever really done before – one night stands weren’t his thing. But there was no-one else, and it might distract him, replace the memories with something else; something fresh, something real. He could understand a little bit why Luka had once done it so often. But chatting up a woman over a glass of club soda or ginger ale just didn’t work. So he spent his evenings at home, or at Gamma’s reminiscing with what remained of the staff. (The house would eventually be sold – he didn’t want it, his father didn’t live here anymore, and there was no-one else. But until it was, a skeleton staff remained.) And at night, he slept and had intense, erotic dreams … and woke as often as not to a sticky mess on the sheets and a feeling of emptiness that was both physical and emotional.

Finally he did return to work. Luka wasn’t working that first day, but Abby was. He smiled at her, and got a cold greeting in response – and nothing more. For the rest of day, and the rest of the week, when they had to work together she was cold, stiff and professional. They might have been strangers. Of course, maybe they had always been strangers. And Carter found himself wondering if it would be the same when Luka returned. It was always hard to work with someone after a relationship had ended. Even if it had ended relatively amicably. Even if it had never been a real relationship at all.

  
It was over a week before he and Luka finally worked a shift together – nearly three weeks since they had said good-bye in the cab. Three weeks … that was almost longer than the time they had spent together as lovers, Carter realized.

  
Luka greeted him warmly, but professionally as they met at the desk for the morning meeting and hand-off with the night shift. Warm but professional all day. Friends and colleagues. At one point Carter asked him “How did things work out with Kristy?”

  
“Who?” Luka asked.

  
“The flight attendant?”

  
“Oh … I tossed the shirt in the wash the next day … the napkin disintegrated. “ And then, “I was just being polite, Carter.”

  
Towards the end of the shift, as they consulted over a patient’s chart, Luka asked him, low. “Got any plans for the evening?”

  
“Not really.”

  
“Wanna come over … get something to eat?” A half smile played around his lips.

  
“Sounds good. I took the el this morning, did you?”

  
“Yeah. I’ll meet you at the end of the shift?”

  
“Sounds good,” Carter said again. And wondered how he’d get through the next few hours, at least without his patients or colleagues noticing that something was amiss.

Light conversation about nothing on the el. Then hurried footsteps down the busy street. As they reached Luka’s building, Carter suddenly realized that he had never been to Luka’s apartment. The closest had been that day with Abby … and a broken fish tank. Not a pleasant memory – and definitely not the high point of his relationship with either of them. Luka had his keys out and was unlocking the street door, breathing much harder than could be explained by the rapid walk. Once inside, he had Carter’s hand by the wrist and was pulling him up the stairs and to his front door – and there they stopped. With a low moan, Luka had his arms around him and was kissing him hungrily … desperately, tongue halfway down his throat. Trying to hold him close and press him to the wall at the same time. A kiss and an embrace that Carter returned just as desperately. One arm released him and was pulling at the buttons and zipper of his fly. Carter heard Luka’s keys hit the ground as he dropped them and broke the kiss long enough to push other hand briefly into Carter’s mouth – and then down the back of his pants and 3 fingers pressed hard into his ass.

  
“Do you want it, John?” he gasped, tearing now at his own fly and turning Carter around to face the wall.

  
“Yes… I want it.” He did. Oh how he did…. He wanted it. He needed it.

  
“Do you want it now?”

  
“Yes … now …” Carter could barely breathe. Luka had his own pants down, just far enough to release his cock, and Carter’s down just far enough to get to his asshole. Just like that day on the balcony in Paris. Then the familiar feeling of the head of Luka’s cock where it had been dozens of times before. “Now … please…” he said again, and pushed his hips back as Luka thrust forward and into him.

  
It was painful this time. Carter had forgotten, and Luka had obviously forgotten too, in their mutual need, that it had been a long time. The preliminaries, at least the practical ones, had been much too brief. What had been pleasurable and exciting in the toilet stall in Paris was less so now. He was tight and dry – and even tighter because they were standing up. But it didn’t seem to matter. He needed Luka inside him, and needed to be giving Luka the pleasure he’d been craving for so long. He tried to focus on the almost forgotten feeling of Luka’s arms around him – his face in his hair … the voice saying the name that almost nobody else ever called him.

  
But after a moment or two … a half a dozen uncomfortable thrusts he had to say “Luka …” and when Luka paused he went on “It’s too tight. I need to be on my hands and knees…”

  
Reluctantly, but obviously understanding, Luka pulled out. He picked up his keys and quickly unlocked the door, pushing Carter through it. There was a small entryway just inside the door, and beyond it, a few stairs leading down to a living room. They didn’t make it past the entryway. As the door shut behind them, Luka pulled Carter’s pants all the way to his ankles, kneeling before him for a moment to take him briefly into his mouth, caress him lightly with his tongue. An apology perhaps for the pain he had caused him. When Luka released his cock, Carter got down to his hands and knees and waited while Luka got his own pants down and then took another minute or two to use his fingers again to stretch and loosen him. And when his cock finally slipped inside again, Luka was slower and gentler, he was much more open – and there was only the familiar and deeply missed pleasure.

  
“Ok?” Luka asked.

  
“Yeah … it’s perfect now.”

  
“Good…” Luka said, breathless again. “Because I really, really  _really_ need to come …” And the hard thrusting again – the focused, relentless drive towards orgasm. Hard, fast and amazingly wonderful. How could he have ever thought he could do without this, Carter thought, as he pushed his hips back again and again to meet those thrusts and take Luka a little bit deeper into his body. It wasn’t a long slow fuck – but there would be time for that later.

  
His own orgasm caught him by surprise – he had been so focused on Luka that he hadn’t realized he was so close. And then Luka’s – the sensation of his cock throbbing inside him, and Luka’s half sob, half groan – too breathless to even say his name this time. And they collapsed together onto the floor, still breathing hard.

  
After a minute Luka rolled off him and said, with that smile in his voice that Carter hadn’t heard in such a long time, “So … does this mean that you missed me?”

  
“I was going to ask you the same question,” Carter said with a chuckle.

  
Then Luka was more serious. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  
“No, not really.”

  
“Good.” And the smile again. “I wouldn’t want to have you bring you into the ER. That could prove … awkward…” He pulled Carter close for a long, deep and lingering kiss … and Carter wanted to stay there forever. But after a minute Luka pulled his mouth free. “Do you work tomorrow?”

  
“No – not until Thursday night.”

  
“Good. Because I suspect that we aren’t going to get much sleep tonight.” He slowly kissed his way down Carter’s body, then took his cock into his mouth again. He was soft, not even half-erect … and despite the pleasure of the sensations, couldn’t manage more than that. It was too soon … he really wasn’t 16 anymore. But he could still enjoy the sensations, and Luka was obviously enjoying himself too. He always did. Still, after a minute or two Luka sighed and sat up. “Hold that thought,” he told Carter. “We’ll need it later.”

  
Casually, Luka kicked off his shoes and got his pants the rest of the way off, then stripped off his shirt. “I’m going to go hop in the shower … clean up. See if you can find something in the fridge for dinner. And some wine.  If you can’t find anything, we may need to order in.”

  
“Which might also prove awkward,” Carter quipped with a smile. He had been about to pull his own pants back up, but he followed Luka’s example and finished undressing. It wasn’t like he was going to need his clothes anymore tonight. After dinner he would take a shower … perhaps Luka would join him there … finish what he had started a few minutes before … and then it would be like Paris again. At least for one more night.

  
There wasn’t much in the fridge; Luka had been right about that. But there was deli meat, and mayonnaise, and some lettuce that didn’t look much more than a month past the sell-by date -- and a loaf of good bread on the counter. By the time Luka had emerged from the bathroom, still naked, damp, Carter had assembled a couple of turkey sandwiches and poured a glass of wine for Luka and a Coke for himself. Luka came up behind him, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him lightly on the back of his neck. He smelled pleasantly of soap. Everything about the embrace was pleasant and comfortable. But it was strangely unarousing. He supposed he did still need time recover and restock. After a moment he stepped forward out of the embrace.

  
“The best I could find,” Carter apologized, sitting down at the table.

  
“It’ll do,” Luka said, and sat across from him, took a drink of wine.

  
And suddenly Carter found himself feeling terribly awkward and embarrassed. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be sitting naked in a man’s apartment, while they ate sandwiches together. This was just … wrong.


	6. Decisions

“What the hell are we doing, Luka?” Carter asked abruptly.

Luka looked at him mildly. “Can you be a little more specific?”

Carter swept his arm around in a gesture that took in the room. “This … us …?  I thought that when we came home, it would be over; we would be done. I thought it was … situational. The right time, the right place.   I didn’t think it was going to be complicated.  I didn’t think you were looking for a relationship.   _Are_ you looking for a relationship?”

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘relationship,'” Luka said, his voice still mild.  He poured himself another glass of wine.  The price sticker on the bottle had said $42. A $42 bottle of wine with turkey sandwiches.  It was the cheapest bottle in the cupboard.  Luka obviously had expensive tastes.  “When I asked you to come over for dinner tonight, did you think I was just asking you over for dinner?”

“No,” Carter said quietly.

“Did I force you to have sex with me? Pressure you? I know I was … assertive, but sometimes that's part of the game, right?”

“I know. And no, you didn’t force me.,” Carter interrupted.

“When I asked you if you wanted it, and you said yes, were you lying?”

Again. “No.”

“Did you enjoy it?” A troubled look. “I know I was a little rough at first. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.  But after that, I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did. Of course I did.  I always do. You know that.”  The conversation wasn’t getting any less uncomfortable.

“So … what are we doing?  We’re having sex.  We’re fucking. We’re having fun.   I thought we were having fun.   I thought we were friends having fun together; enjoying each other.    I have no-one else right now.  So far as I know, you don’t either.  The situation hasn’t changed.”

“But I don’t want this kind of … relationship.  I don’t want to be a fuck-buddy.  In Africa, in Paris, it was different.  But it’s not what I want here.  Sex isn’t a game to me, Luka, it never has been.   I know that you’ve never had much trouble with … just sex.  Sex without strings or promises. “(Luka winced a little at that – honesty hurt sometimes, Carter knew.) “But that’s never been me.  Nothing about this is me.  And not just the fact that I still can’t think of myself as anything but straight.  It may sound crazy to you, but I want sex to mean something.  Not just fucking and coming. I want it to at least have a chance of leading to something real … something permanent. Do you expect that, for us? Or _is_ it just a game to you?”

Luka had already finished his second glass of wine, but didn’t move to pour himself a third.  He just looked at the empty glass, then at Carter.  “How many women have you slept with, Carter?”

“What … like ever?”

“Yeah … like ever.”

“I don’t know … a dozen … 15  maybe? I’d have to stop and count, I guess. I was in college for most of them.”

“And you’re what … 35?”

“33.”

“ … 33. And every one of those dozen or so women has been someone you expected would lead to a permanent relationship?”

“Most of them, yeah.” A half smile. “Maybe not the maid who took my virginity at 11, or some of the flings during college … but since I’ve been an adult yeah, most of them.”

“When I was 33 I had slept with … 3 women.  And 3 men.  Of the men, two were _very_ situational … one somewhat less so.    Of the women, there was Danijela, and two relatively serious relationships in the  years after she died.  Until last year, I’d slept with 5 women. And those same three men.  Danijela, those two relationships, Abby, and Nicole.  Both of whom I also had thought were real relationships that might lead to something permanent.  Abby more than Nicole, but still … “A sigh and he went on slowly,

“You’re right ... I slept with … I don’t even know how many women last year … I probably went through a dozen or 15 in the first month.” A fleeting smile that didn’t touch his eyes.  “And maybe a man or two …in a threesome or two.  I was pretty drunk for some of them … don’t remember for sure.  And every single morning, I woke up, and looked in the mirror and was disgusted with myself.  Every single morning I told myself I’d never do that again. That nothing could be worth how I felt the morning after.   And the next night, there would be someone else, in the hopes that I could forget, for an hour anyway, how disgusted I still felt with myself.   Eventually I started paying for it … for the sex.   $300 for an hour – at least we both knew what it was – a business proposition, nothing more.  She was doing her job. We both went into it honestly, with our eyes open, and the arrangement fully understood and agreed to.  Even with Gillian it was, in a way, a business proposition.  We were both consenting adults.  We were both sober the first time, and most of the other times.  We both knew what it was about … and how it would end.  We were strangers when it started, and still strangers when it ended.

Another glass of wine poured.  A slow drink to half drain the glass.  “Since I’ve been sleeping with you, Carter, I haven’t once woken up feeling disgusted with myself.” A momentary smile. “Yeah, that first time, maybe I felt a little guilty about seducing you, but since then … no.  We were friends, not strangers.  And I thought we were also both adults, both having fun, but understanding what it was all about.  And I know that … right now … the situation still feels right to me.  I know that I’d much rather be having sex with you, a friend who I can like, and care about,  and respect, and enjoy spending time with in or out of bed  -- than any number of women I could pick up in a bar. Or on a plane.  Or pay for.”

“Friends with benefits?” Carter asked softly.

“If you want to call it that, sure. And sure, I could also sleep alone. I’ve done that too. Quite a lot. But … I’d rather be sleeping with you.”

“I’m just not ready to give up on a real relationship.  With a _woman_ I can like, and respect... and have something permanent with.  I still do see myself as straight, Luka.”

“And you are.  And so am I.” A ghost of a smile.   “Mostly, anyway.  And yeah, I’d also like that permanent relationship, that right woman.” More softly, “Marriage. Children. I haven’t given up on those either.”  Then more firmly again.   But she isn’t here right now. Not for either of us.  So, until she is …” Luka shook his head, swirled the wine in the glass for a moment.

 “Look, Carter, I have never forced you or pressured you, and I’m not going to start now.  You have always been a more than enthusiastic partner in bed … or wherever we were doing it at the time. But if you want to stop, that’s fine. I’ll understand.   Your clothes are over there on the floor.  You are welcome to put them on and go home – and I’ll see you at work.  Or we can both put our clothes on, and we can watch a movie, or a ball game on tv.  Or we can go to a bar and play some pool, maybe meet a couple of nice women who may … eventually … become something permanent.   Or we can go to bed and fuck. It’s your decision.”

“If we do … go to bed … what happens when that right relationship … or what looks like it could become the right relationship with the right woman happens for either of us?”

“When that happens, for either of us, I hope we’ll be able to be honest with each other, and this relationship will end. And I hope we’ll still be friends.  We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“When that happens … will you be honest with her too … about this?”

“I don’t know,” Luka admitted.  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it too.”

Carter took a breath, and suddenly remembered that first evening … Luka saying ‘breathe …’ so he would relax and make the process easier.  He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But maybe knowing would help him understand what Luka was feeling, what he should be feeling,  and what the right decision was.  A breath to make the process easier.   “Tell me about those 3 men. Those relationships.”

“Ok.” Luka looked thoughtful for a moment, looked at his glass, but still didn’t drink. “ The first two weren’t a relationship. They were also friends, and very much situational.  It was the war.  A situation that I’m not going to try to describe … I honestly try to not remember much about it.  Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you, but not now. Every day, we didn’t know if we’d be alive tomorrow. And every day we didn’t know … honestly, which one we wanted. Sometimes dead seemed better.  Any comfort, any pleasure, anything to remind us that someone in the world cared about us … that we were still alive – and  that maybe alive _could_ be better than dead. It was mostly just touching, sometimes just holding each other.  A little bit of oral. No intercourse.

“Eventually the situation ended; we moved on.  We didn’t see much of each other after that, but even when I would write or call, or they would, we never talked about it.  None of us wanted to remember, and we were pretty ashamed. 

"The … actual relationship was a couple of years later.” Luka smiled to himself. “Danijela had been dead for a few years.  Everyone kept telling me that I should start dating again, seeing  women.  But I didn’t want to.  It still felt like … I would be cheating on her if I had sex with another woman.   I was finishing my residency.   He was a third year medical student. “

“Here in the states?” Carter interrupted.

“No. I was still in Croatia.  The war was over. I was wanting to leave, leave the memories behind, but visas weren’t easy to come by. Especially visas with medical residencies attached.  Countries that would take me weren’t countries I wanted to go to. I spoke a little English – was holding out for the states.   Anyway … he was a medical student.  Blond, clear blue eyes, very attractive.  God Carter … you know … I don’t even remember his name now.  I remember everything else; what he looked like, what we did together, but not his name.  He didn’t try to hide his orientation, and everyone knew he was gay.

“One day he asked me to come to his room to help him understand some journal articles he was reading.  They were in English, and I had more English than he did.   I knew what he really wanted, but I went anyway.  I’m not sure why he thought I’d be interested. Maybe he saw me as lonely and desperate.  Maybe he assumed that because I didn’t have a girlfriend or a wife that I must be gay … even if I didn’t know it.  I was still wearing my wedding ring, but everyone at the hospital knew I was a widower and had been for a while. Or maybe it was a shot in the dark, and he figured that if I said yes, that I must know what to expect ... and want it.

“He came onto me pretty hard.  Aside from finding the whole idea a little …uncomfortable in the physical sense, I was sure that it was a set-up.  Entrapment had a long and respected history in Yugoslavia. But eventually I gave in. No -- that's not accurate.  I  _was_ interested. I didn't just 'give in.'   We kissed; he sucked me a little bit.  Then he asked me to fuck him.  And I found that a little strange. Not the idea of doing  it, but the idea that he’d  specifically want that. But he was very persuasive … it had been over two years since I’d had sex with anyone.  I was definitely lonely and desperate.” A smile again and a chuckle. “I was still Catholic enough that even masturbating was something I saved for really dire situations.  And somehow doing it with a man, strange as it felt, seemed less like cheating.  I enjoyed it.  He did too.” Another chuckle. “He came before I’d even gotten all the way inside him. I didn't last much longer.

“We were together for a couple of months. I learned a lot about what I liked … what felt good… what other men might like. A lot of the things we do ... you can blame on him." Luka shook his head. "It's been almost 10 years." A sigh and a smile.  "He was a good teacher.  But he was still a medical student.  And … even without the risk of a communist-era entrapment, if we’d been caught I would have been fired and he would probably have been expelled.  So, I broke it off, and a couple of months later found a nice young woman … confirmed that I was really still mostly-straight ... and that lasted until my visa came through a few months after that. Since then, I’ve been pretty happy with women … or less happy but accepting of nothing … there was plenty of nothing during those years too. And then there was you.” Luka reached out a hand for Carter’s face, but Carter shook his head and scooted his chair back just  out of reach.  He still needed to think about this, without complicating it with touches … desire. Luka looked slightly hurt, but went on,  “And I’m happy again. No, John. I don’t see us riding off into the sunset together … but right now, it _is_ still right.”

Carter shook his head again. “I just find it hard to see us pursuing a relationship, when we both know that it’s going to end … when something better comes along.”

“All relationships end, Carter.”

“Not if it’s the right one.”

Very quietly, “ _All_ relationships end, Carter. Eventually. Even the right ones. And you can’t refuse to have one, be afraid to have one, just in case it might end someday.  Because it will. Eventually. One way or another.”

Carter reached over and took the glass from Luka’s hand – finished the last of the wine that was in it.  Poured another, looked at it, and put it down.  He’d forgotten that he didn’t drink. Luka could make him forget a lot of things.  

  Luka was right, of course.  It wasn’t complicated at all; he’d just been making it seem complicated.  The situation _was_ still right.  What made a situation right wasn’t the place, or how long it had been since he’d had sex, or how horny he was, or the availability, or lack thereof of other options.  What made the situation right was the need, and the want, _for_ the right person. The right man.  And right now, Luka was still the right man. They were both adults, and everything about what they had was still completely and absolutely right.   Luka was still the most beautiful man he had ever seen, the sex was still amazing, and he wasn’t ready to give up on any of it. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, but at the moment, there were no bridges in sight. Just Luka, sitting naked at the table across from him, looking absolutely beautiful, and breathtakingly, irresistibly desirable.

A long minute had passed, and Luka said quietly, ‘So  ... what will it be?”

Carter rose from his chair and reached across the table for Luka’s hand. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that,” and Luka pulled him over to his chair, onto his lap,  and into another of those long, deep kisses that he hadn’t realized he had missed so much.  Deep and hungry, but still gentle … almost tender.  He had missed all of this, so very much.  After a few minutes Carter took his mouth from Luka’s and let his lips wander down his neck, across his shoulder. Luka said, with that smile in his voice, but also a slight tremor,  “Does this mean we’re going to bed?”

“Soon. Not yet.” He let his mouth continue its journey across and down Luka’s body;  his broad shoulders, the muscles of his chest, his nipples. At the bottom of his sternum, he paused.  “You’ve never told me, what’s the scar from?”

“You never asked.” A beat.  “That was also the war.” Another beat.  “I’ll tell you about it another time. There will be plenty of time to talk. Later.” And he threw his head back as Carter’s mouth followed that scar to its base, and beyond.

"Do you want it?" Carter asked.  Foreplay.

"Oh yeah."

"No interruptions?"

"No interruptions." Luka's smile melted him.

Carter slowly took Luka’s penis into his mouth. It was still only half hard, and Carter marveled, as he always did, at the way it swelled to fill his mouth and then some, as his lips and tongue caressed it. He could never quite take the full length in his mouth, but that never stopped him from trying. Carter was in no hurry though.  He was going to take his time and enjoy every moment of it. It had been far too long since he’d done this.  He would make certain that Luka’s enjoyment too lasted as long as it possibly could.  Later, he knew (and for many days and weeks to come), he would enjoy the feel of Luka’s mouth on his own cock … and Luka’s length and hardness filling other parts of his body far beyond full. But for now, this was what was important.  Everything about the relationship and the man were intimate, and profound, and deeply, deeply satisfying.


	7. Right. Now.

They had both thought that, once they’d agreed to continue the relationship, that it _would_ continue, that it would be the same … that it would be like Paris.  At least until something better came along. 

But it didn’t.  From the start, things were different.  The sex was still never less than amazing.  There  was certainly quite a bit less of it.  They weren’t in Paris anymore, and they had jobs and responsibilities, and work schedules that varied constantly, and often meant that they would go several days without a free day together. So instead of sex three … four … five times a day every day, they  usually found two or three days during the week when they could spend a whole night, or a whole day together. Rarely a full 24 hours.  And sure, the anticipation heightened their desires, maybe even made the sex better. Or maybe not.  It was hard to tell.

Perhaps the sex was already getting a bit stale.  Maybe just a tiny bit less satisfying.  The book had been left in Paris, but sometimes they tried new things to vary the cycle of sucking and fucking.  Toys. A vibrator.  New positions.  Sometimes Luka offered to let Carter fuck him for a change of pace.   Most of the new things still didn’t really appeal.

Things were … maybe … a bit stale, because sex was still all there was.   Even more than in Paris, sex _was_ all there was. They couldn’t date.  The relationship had to be a secret. Sure, they could go out to a ballgame, or a movie, or play pool at a bar, or get dinner at a restaurant. And sometimes they did.  But everything else that dating couples did – everything they had done in Paris -- the looks, the kisses,  the flirtatious comments, the casual touches – the not so casual touches  under the table --  they couldn’t have those. And why spend precious time together in public, when they could just be together.  Even in the apartment, it seemed a shame to waste their precious time together in conversation.  As often as not, dinner at home was interrupted as Luka knelt before his chair to satisfy a more urgent hunger.  Or a tv show would be quickly forgotten as a quick kiss turned into something more.  Sometimes precious free time had to be spent with other people, lest the intensity of the relationship become too obvious.

At work they had to always be professional; hide their needs, their desires.  Before, he could steal a kiss from Abby in the lounge.  Not anymore.  Not with Luka. And while the staff gossiped about Susan and Chuck sneaking into the handicapped restroom for a quick one – the gossip was good natured. It would be less so, he knew, if he and Luka had tried such a thing.  It really _shouldn’t_ matter.  There were plenty of gay people working at County. Half the male nurses were gay.  Hell, the chief of staff was gay.  But _the_ y weren’t.  This was still a temporary -- something -- that they would soon move on from.  When he was ready for a permanent relationship with the right woman, it wouldn’t help anything if it was complicated by rumors of past relationships … questions about his real orientation.  Even people who had no trouble understanding and accepting ‘gay’ often were less understanding of ‘bi’ … or ‘mostly straight.’ Maybe thinking about it, accepting the idea would force them to think more about where they stood, and if ‘mostly straight’ might not apply to them too.  Better to avoid the questions about him and themselves.

When they went home together after work, Carter would often ride the el an extra stop or two, or get off a stop or two early and walk back, or catch the next train,  so it would be less obvious that they _were_ going home together.  And while playing pool at the bar, they  were often approached by willing women … and they had to refuse them, while not letting on, even there, that they were a couple.  A bar pick-up would be casual, and neither one wanted that. They were waiting for that something real, something permanent.  He wasn’t ashamed, Carter told himself a thousand times.  It’s just that this – something – wasn’t him, and it would benefit no one if someone thought it was.

 Outside the walls of Luka’s apartment (somehow they always went to Luka’s apartment, never his own),  or at least outside the building, (they'd enjoyed a quick fuck in the hall on more than one occasion since the first) they were close friends who shared a certain – and completely understandable --  emotional  intimacy due to the intensity of their shared experiences in Africa. They were buddies. They were colleagues and co-workers.  And they could never be anything more than that – never let on that there might be anything more than that.

Carter still couldn’t imagine it ending … still woke often on their nights apart, flushed with desire and aching for Luka’s body, his mouth, his touch, his taste.   And if the sex was maybe a little stale, a little less amazing – these things were relative.   It was still beyond amazing.  199% rather than 200% was nothing to complain about.   When they would be together after a few days apart, sometimes  Carter’s  desire and arousal were so intense, so overwhelming that, like Luka’s first male lover, he would find himself coming before Luka was fully inside of him.  They would always laugh it off with an ‘I guess you missed me.’  He would recharge and restock and there would be more relaxed pleasure, more long slow fucking and more orgasms before the night or the day had ended. 

But Carter knew what he’d known from the start. This wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t him.  No matter how much he tried to tell himself differently, it was still just sex, not anything they could call a relationship.  It was still nothing he wanted to call a relationship.  They were still friends. And they still had sex.  The song came to his mind “Can’t live with him … can’t live without him … there’s something irresistible ….” and then the last line of the verse “And hope that something better comes along.”  How true it was.  But when or if something better did come along, _would_ he be able to live without him?

 

They were lying in bed together, exhausted – spent.  Carter didn’t think he would ever be able to get it up again. Ever move again. Though of course he knew he would; but probably not tonight.  The sex had been exceptionally amazing tonight. Luka had seemed a bit distracted, saying little, but at the same time, even more focused than usual on Carter’s pleasure. 

“Carter.” The simple word, heard a million times before, startled him.  They were in bed. In bed he was John. Always.  John was the lover. Carter was the friend. Dr. Carter was the colleague.

“Hmmm?”  Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it a slip of the tongue; of the brain. It was nearly 2 a.m. They _were_ both exhausted after a long day at work and a long evening of slow sex.  Three times. And they had to both get up in the morning for work.

“I ummm…. I had coffee with Sam today at work. And I asked her out … Saturday night.  I know you’ll be working then, so we wouldn’t see each other anyway.”

“Ok.”  The word came automatically. What else was he supposed to say?

“I don’t know if anything will come of it.  And I expect that we won’t be … sleeping together for a while, even if that first date seems promising. She doesn’t seem the type to rush into bed with a new partner.  And with Alex  … I expect we’ll just have dinner or go to a movie and I’ll take her home for a good-night kiss.  At least for the first few dates.”

Carter sat up abruptly and swung his legs around the side of the bed. His clothes were in the bathroom. Their first fuck tonight had been over the vanity. Luka knew he liked that position. Deep penetration, and they could watch each others' faces in the mirror.   “Good luck. I hope it does work out.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

“John …” He was John again. And Luka sounded hurt … pleading.   “I’m not going to rush anything with Sam. So we don’t have to rush anything. We can still be together. For a while anyway.”

“No we can’t. Do you really think that you’re going to take Sam out for dinner on Saturday night, and then spend all day Sunday fucking me?  It doesn’t work that way – and that wasn’t the agreement. You’ve found something better ... or something that might be better ... and I’m happy for you.  And unless you can tell her, honestly, that you’ll be dropping her off at home Saturday night with a good-night kiss, and going home to spend Sunday fucking another man’s ass and sucking his cock – this _is_ over. That was the agreement."

“Saturday is 4 days away.  We can still have a few more days … and nights.” Luka’s voice broke. “I still need you, John.  And I’m not talking about the sex.  I love you, and  I can’t imagine not being with you. Right now, what we have, is still so right.”

“Oh … Christ …” Carter breathed.  Love. Where had that come from? It was one thing they had never discussed or hinted at. One thing that he had never imagined would come out of this.  Or perhaps this was just the next step in a sequence of unimaginable events that had begun that evening in his quarters with Luka’s lips on the back of his neck.  Did he love Luka? As a friend … absolutely.  He would walk in front of a train for him.  Take a bullet for him.  But that other kind of love … he had no idea. He knew now how sex worked with another man … but how did romantic love work? Commitment?  And surely that was the kind of love that Luka was talking about. He wasn't ready to go there yet.  Still, the pain on Luka’s face just about broke his heart. And yes, he needed him too.

Carter fell back onto the bed and rolled over, into Luka’s waiting arms, and their mouths found each other. No passion, no arousal, just a need to be close to each other, holding and touching each other, and falling asleep together, while they still could.

 

They woke early the next morning. Both had to work that day, but before getting up, they made love. Not fucking, not sex, but slow and tender love making. Really, what they did was little different from the slow, deep fucking they loved and enjoyed so often … but it felt different.  There were a few more kisses, Luka’s embrace felt a little tighter. And when Luka came into his body with a gasp and a sigh, and whispered his name into his hair – that felt different too. He didn’t say, “I love you,” but the words were there anyway, hidden somewhere, encoded in his touch.

Then, they didn’t talk about it anymore.  As always, the more intense the relationship, the less they talked.  Maybe this was when he had stopped talking to Abby.

At work, he kept feeling Luka looking at him, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.  The casual banter between Luka and the nurses was no different than usual – but when it was with Sam, it felt different.  At the end of the day, they walked silently to the el together, and got off at the same stop. As Luka turned the key in the lock, he said, “I don’t have much in the fridge for dinner.  We can order something, or go out for dinner. “

“Whatever you want to do.”

“I’m not really hungry right now,” Luka said. “We can decide later  ... unless you’re hungry.”

“Not particularly.”  Usually, Carter knew, that exchange would have unspoken but agreed upon code for, ‘I’d rather fuck now.’  But not today.  Luka made no move towards starting anything, just tossed his wallet and keys onto the desk, opened a beer, and stood silently, looking out the window, not drinking it.   There was an uncertainty and awkwardness to everything now; even worse than  during that first evening in his quarters … or that first day sitting here in Luka’s living room. It was all going to end on Saturday, but what would happen between now and then?  What did he want to happen?

 Carter sat down on the couch, picked up the remote and just looked at it. Luka would have to say something; do something.  Luka had always been the assertive one – he’d taken the lead from the start.  He was, obviously, taking the lead now ... about ending it.  And now, more than ever, Carter just had no idea what to do.  He could only hope that Luka did.

Finally Luka joined him on the couch, set the beer down on the table, but didn’t touch him.  More silence, then softly, “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that.”

A slow, tender kiss again.  No particular passion, and neither of them moved to touch in a way that might lead to more.  After a while the kiss ended, and Carter settled comfortably against Luka’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of his breathing; the way they could, for the moment,  be together, relaxed, without necessarily thinking about sex.  Maybe that was the problem.  Maybe sex had been getting in the way of the relationship.  They couldn’t focus on what really mattered, when so much of their time together revolved around sex.  The less time they had together, the more of it was spent having sex.  They couldn’t date, but they _could_ enjoy each others' company, in or out of bed.

Luka took a drink from the bottle. “I can’t really break the date with Sam.  I have to keep it … unless something comes up, like I’m called into work.”

“I know. And you should keep it.”

“I don’t think anything will come of it though.  I thought I was ready … to start looking … but I’m not.”

“You have to do what feels right to you, Luka,” Carter said.

“I know. “ A beat. "And I am."

More silence.  Talking … communication was what made a relationship, not sex.  “Luka, you said you’d tell me … what is the scar from.”

Luka smiled for a moment.  “A 2 centimeter piece of shrapnel.  The hospital had run out of the chemicals needed to develop x-rays.  The one ultrasound machine had been damaged months before and couldn’t be replaced. Direct visualization was the only way to find it.  I was actually pretty lucky.  They still had anesthetics … and some narcotics for the first couple of days afterwards. They eventually ran out of those too.”

“And I’m sure the scar has been useful for chatting up the women. ‘Would you like to see my war wound?” It was a joke, and Luka smiled again. Briefly.  Then, “Did you mean what you said last night?”

“About what?”

“Do you love me?”

“If I didn’t, do you think I would have gone all the way to Africa to put you to bed?” Another drink. Another silence. A light brush of his lips against Carter's hair. Then thoughtfully ...  “A few years ago… I was watching some rerun on late night tv.   I don’t remember what the show was; I’d come in in the middle. It was science fiction. The woman had fallen in love with a man, but he was an alien. And his species changed sex every few years or decades, so one day her lover showed up, and was a woman.  The main character was freaked out by it, but the alien tried to convince her that if she loved him … or her, it shouldn’t matter what his … or her … body looked like, or what parts she had. That love should be what mattered.”

“Was she convinced?”

A smile. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember how it turned out.  Maybe I changed the channel or fell asleep before the end.  But maybe the alien was right.  Maybe we shouldn’t be so focused on labels … and parts ….” Softly. “I don’t need something better, John.  Do you?”

“No.  I have all that I can ever imagine needing.”

And there was no need to categorize love ... try to fit it into neat boxes, Carter suddenly realized. Love was love, whatever form it took. It was strange,ironic really. If he had ... or ever would someday ... given his life for Luka's ... walked in front of that train, thrown himself before that bullet ... no-one in the world would have thought it wrong. It would have been courage ... manliness ... true friendship.  So why then could it be seen as wrong, by anyone, to share commitment ... love ...  give each other sexual pleasure?

“Do you love me?” Luka's quiet question broke into his thoughts. 

“Do you think I would have gone all the way to Africa to bury you if I didn’t?”

This time the kiss _was_ passionate … hungry. No, sex couldn’t be all there was, but that didn’t mean it didn’t matter; wasn’t important.  And the relationship might still be only for ‘right now’ … but ‘right now’ could last a very long time. And Carter suspected that it just might.

He didn’t want to break the kiss, but did. “I had a long day at work.  I think I could stand a shower before we get … too involved.”

“Or, we could both have a shower _while_ we get … too involved.” Luka was already undoing the buttons on his shirt.

A trail of clothes followed them to the bathroom.  And the shower lasted until the hot water ran out.  The sex … the lovemaking, lasted even longer; and the conversation lasted longer still.  And this time they both said ‘I love you,’ many times.  And both could believe it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story had originally been intended to end with chapter 6, but I realized I needed to follow the relationship to a more concrete conclusion. So wrote another chapter. (And then another one ...)
> 
> The song quoted is from the Muppet Movie “Hope that Something Better Comes Along.” And the lyric is actually ‘can’t live with ‘em ..’ and is referring to women, but probably Carter is mis-remembering them. And the tv program referenced was an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. And I don’t remember how it turned out either, don’t remember the name of the episode, and didn’t feel like trying to track it down.


	8. Epilogue: Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The general scenario here, including the names, was borrowed from a fic written [a very long time ago…] by a friend of mine over on FF.net. Oh, and lest anyone be confused, Marijan is a man’s name – a Croatian form of Marius, not Marianne or Mary Ann.)

Luka stretched out beside him again on their bed, licked his lips with a thoughtful look on his face; a distant smile.

“I remember the first time I ever did that.  I’d told you … just a little … about that first … situation; my first experience with another man.  The war; my two friends." The smile was gone.   "Not a fun time.  We’d done some touching … holding … but nothing more. And it wasn’t even about sex – it was about comfort.  Danijela hadn’t been dead for very long and to be honest, between that, and everything else that was going on, sex was just about the last thing on my mind.

“That day we’d been allowed a shower and clean clothes for the first time in weeks.” A brief, bitter smile.  “I guess we’d gotten to the point where they couldn’t stand us either.  Or maybe the Red Cross had been poking around too closely for their comfort.  There was only one shower for … I don’t even know how many prisoners.  I got back to the room first and dressed.  Then Drago came back in.  They’d left the clean clothes in the room and there were no towels in the shower; the water was cold but the room was heated and there was soap. It was like heaven. But then we had to walk naked and wet across the yard in the dead of winter ... lest we think that they’d gone soft on us … that they actually gave a damn.  Drago looked so miserable and cold  and I just wanted to do something for him; make him feel better.

“The first days there, he had been the strong one.  I … I’d tried to kill myself at one point. Not very effectively.  Drago stopped me, tried to convince me that things would get better.  They hadn’t, not really, not yet … but he  helped me to hope again, at least a little bit.  And now it seemed that he was finding things more and more difficult, and I’d found some strength ... from somewhere. Maybe the strength did come from him; maybe the courage he’d given me had used up his own store of it. I don’t know.  And just then, I wanted to repay him for that, maybe make things a little better … remind him that alive _could_ be better, if only for a few minutes.

“I put my arms around him – said he must be cold. He said that he was. I started to touch him, and he let me. Like I said, we’d done that before, usually under the blankets.  But it seemed to me that it wasn’t enough. I remember … I said ‘Molim … please, let me help you.’  I helped him put the clean shirt on so he wouldn’t be so cold and helped him sit down on the floor.  There were no beds … just blankets on the floor.  When he felt my mouth on him, when he realized it was my mouth and not my hand, he started … I think … to say something, but didn’t.  He let me. I don’t know if he really wanted it, or he just sensed how much I wanted … or needed … to do it ... do something for him. 

A brief chuckle. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.  Even with Danijela I hadn’t done too much of it; giving or receiving.  Sex was wonderful with her – she _was_ my life for every moment we were together -- but she was  pretty religious, and not always comfortable with anything she … or the priest … viewed as too adventurous.  So most of my experience until that day was just intercourse.  

“I also knew we needed to hurry, before Marijan came back from the shower.  I wasn’t sure what I’d do if the guard opened the door and caught us at it. We didn’t look at each other.  The one time I glanced up, to see if maybe he wanted me to stop; if he looked embarrassed or ashamed; he had his eyes closed, but I could see that he looked like he _was_ liking it.  So, whatever I was doing, it seemed to work well enough, and we did finish in time. And when he came …” Luka shook his head and smiled. “It was like … you know that feeling you get when you’ve just saved a patient who everyone  ... even you ... had thought had no chance? It was like that. It was like I’d saved his life … and mine too.” A sigh.  “The only really wonderful moment in weeks of … horror. He said thank you, then got up and put his pants on. He didn’t offer to return the favor, and if he had, I think I would have said no, even if we’d had enough time.  I’d gotten what I wanted – what I needed. I couldn’t imagine feeling any more satisfied.

“When Marijan came in a few minutes later, also cold and wet, I wanted to do the same for him, but he wouldn’t let me; he got really upset. Touching was one thing, he said, but that would be … just wrong. A sin. I don’t know if he knew, or guessed, what I’d done with Drago, but we never discussed it again; never did it again. Not too long after that, we were released. To this day, I think this is the first time I’d told anyone about it, and I’m sure Drago hasn’t either. Last I heard, he was still in Croatia, married with 4 or 5 kids – I can’t see him telling anyone.”

“You never told your med-student lover?” asked Carter, speaking for the first time.

“Not really. I think I told him I’d had a little … very little experience. But no details.  The war was still too close, the memories too painful. I didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.  We had so little time together, and it was too precious.

“But I think that must be why I enjoy it so much.  It makes me remember that day … those few minutes ... repaying a debt I couldn’t repay in any other way.  And maybe I’m always trying to recapture the feeling I had at that moment. Like a drug addict always chasing that first high. It’s always wonderful with you, John … I always love every minute of it – and I love you -- but it will never be quite like that again.”

 


End file.
